


One shot

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: Ianto receives some real world experience training with Jack





	One shot

He'd only been there just over a month, but already it felt as if he'd become a part of the furniture, albeit an invisible, somewhat taken completely for granted piece of furniture.

Still, it surprised him when one night, after the others had all left for the evening, that Jack had called him over his comms and asked him to meet him downstairs. The firing range to be precise.

When he slowly entered through the doorway, Jack was already there with a cache of weapons laid out on a small table at the near end of the range.

'Ah, Ianto, good, you're here. Take these,' he said proferring the safety glasses.

Ianto took the glasses and Jack waited until he'd placed them on his head before continuing.

'This is a glock, semi automatic, seventeen rounds full clip,' he explained, holding the firearm out toward Ianto's hand. He looked down at the proffered weapon.

'I know what it is.'

'You've had weapons training before?'

'Torchwood One prerequisite,' he replied matter of factually.

'Of course it was,' Jack replied, narrowing his eyes and wondering if he hadn't just let the enemy walk straight in the front door.

'I didn't like it very much,' Ianto felt like qualifying the response, seeing Jack's initial reaction. 'Not much need for a gun when you're only filing paperwork.'

'Well then you're not likely to enjoy this either,' Jack replied darkly. 'I might not like how they ran things in London, but perhaps they were sensible enough to at least make sure their staff could handle a weapon.'

'Sir?' Ianto replied, confused.

'You think that just because you serve the coffee and open the mail around here, that you don't need training? You're in more danger the minute you walk through that door than just about anywhere else on the planet. Do you think that if we have a weevil breakout in the cells that you'll be able to stop one with your files? I expect all my team to be capable of defending themselves, even you. Like it or not.'

He thrust the gun handle towards Ianto with a look that broached no argument. Reluctantly he took hold of it, staring down at it.

'You do know which end to point, don't you?'

Ianto tried not to roll his eyes or show annoyance. Jack clearly still didn't trust him entirely, or perhaps he'd just caught him on a bad day. Perhaps it would have been better to play dumb and pretend he'd never done this before. Then again, that might not have come off too well either.

'Target, twenty yards at eleven o'clock,' Jack instructed, picking out a life size cardboard cutout of a weevil.

Ianto pulled back the slide, taking careful aim. He expected to be a bit rusty, but hoped it didn't swing too far wide of the intended target. He firmed his hand under the one holding the gun, prepared for the slight blowback when he pulled the trigger. The shots rang out loudly through the vast interior, echoing a dozen times or more around the brick walled space.

Jack cocked his head, studying the result of the three shots fired in quick succession.

'Little bit far left, but not a bad first effort. Sort of. Guess they taught you something after all.' Ianto presumed he should take that as a compliment, but sometimes with Jack it was hard to tell. As much as possible he tried to keep things light.

'I suppose now would be the wrong time to object to violence?'

'Says the man who tried to club a weevil with a tree branch,' Jack laughed.

'Doesn't quite have the same finality as a gun.'

'A gun is unlikely to take down a weevil at the best of times. You can pump them full of lead and they'll still keep going. I hope you'll never have to.'

Jack made Ianto go through dozens of drills with a vast array of weaponry. Some were light, some were heavier. Some looked clearly alien. One or two had a shocking recoil on them that nearly knocked him to the ground, so unexpected had it been. Luckily Jack had been standing not far behind, as if half expecting it, or maybe just looking for an excuse to catch him. He was more than generous in offering guidance in how to better position the firearm, wrapping his arms around Ianto's body to demonstrate. At some point, he realised that he might even be enjoying himself, just a little.

'Not half bad Mr Jones,' Jack said, reviewing the holes in the chests of several cardboard victims. 'But it's all well and good to be able to hit a stationary target, even if you're on the move. It's another matter completely to be able to take the shot in less than ideal circumstances.'

For all his praise about Ianto's suits and his coffee making skills, the guy had a real problem with dishing out genuine compliments. In fairness, he thought he'd done quite well for a first run through Jack's gauntlet. It was far more complex and grueling than anything he'd been trained for in London. Taking aim at a piece of paper just didn't compare to this.

'Now comes the hard part,' Jack said, disappearing through a corridor that lead off to the right of the main hall. He reappeared moments later, carrying a life sized weevil.

At first Ianto thought it must have been real. 'Bloody hell!'

Jack grinned back. 'Good isn't it? Hard to get a taxidermist round these parts, but there's a local special effects company that love knocking up stuff like this.'

He tentatively ran a hand over the model. It just looked so damn real, even the hairs that protruded from the leathery skin were incredible.

'Now, I'm going to take this over here,' Jack said, struggling to haul the weighty figure across the room, 'and we're going to pretend that I'm being attacked. You're going to shoot the weevil without hitting me.'

'I thought you had it under control?' Ianto quipped, trying to distract his thoughts from what Jack was suggesting, and fondly remembering their first joint encounter with a weevil.

'Not this time. This time you're going to have to save my bacon because it's got me in a headlock and about to tear my throat out.'

Ianto watched as Jack dragged the weevil further down the length of the room. He must've been a good thirty yards away. Suddenly Ianto didn't like this game anymore. Hard enough to make the shot, let alone not hit Jack in the process.

'Okay,' Jack called out.

'I couldn't just hit it with a tree branch?'

Jack didn't reply. Instead he wrapped the weevil's fake arm around his neck and began flailing dramatically against it, yelling and screaming as if it were really happening.

Christ. He wasn't serious was he? Did he really expect Ianto to try and shoot the weevil with him carrying on like that, and getting in the way?

'Help! Save me!' Jack cried out.

'No, I can't!'

'Yes you can. Shoot it before there's nothing left but a few chunks to throw in a body bag!'

Ianto stood there, transfixed, as Jack continued his mad acting.

'Shoot!'

'No! I'll hit you!'

'Do you really think I'd let you shoot if I thought you'd hit me?' Jack yelled.

'Yes, you stupid crazy bastard!' Ianto yelled back. He was done being the polite, well behaved employee. Jack had lost his mind.

'Shoot or I'll fire you, and that's an order! I'll have you on the first train back to London.'

He should have just taken a stand against him and refused to do it, walking away from the situation. Instead in the short time he'd been here, he knew Jack to be the most stubborn kind of creature imaginable. He'd do this all night if he had to. The man was arrogant and cocky. No wonder he had rankled the brass in London.

Ianto growled in frustration, forced to bring the gun up and try to line up his shot. The sooner this was over the better. One shot. That was it. If Jack wanted to play human target practice games after that he could find someone else.

From his position, Jack caught sight of Ianto finally conceding and raising his gun. That in itself was a victory. He hadn't thought the young man had the balls to do it, despite his goading and threats. It pleased him. He'd watched the young man exceed his expectations all evening, and had no doubt that he would make the shot, or aim it purposefully wide if he chickened out. Jack hoped he didn't. He remembered when he'd put the others under similar training. Owen had thought he'd lost his marbles too, refusing to take the shot. He'd finally given in though, Jack's taunting sufficient incentive for him to want to shoot something, even if it was Jack he might prefer to shoot. Suzie hadn't hesitated for even a moment, coldly raising the gun and firing without a second thought. Poor Tosh couldn't do it. She'd had to learn the hard way, forced to make a shot in similar circumstances when Jack had bitten off more than he could chew with a hoix. Had she not, it would have been the hoix who would have bit off more than he could chew, of Jack that is.

He persevered with his melodramatic thrashing, determined to give Ianto a decent challenge, when the dust kicked up by his actions caught in his nose and caused him to sneeze violently. He lunged abruptly leftward at just the same time as Ianto had sucked up the courage to pull the trigger on the gun. He heard the gun go off, but was convinced the boy had missed, until a searing pain in his upper chest sent him tumbling backwards to the ground. His own actions had put him in the direct line of fire, and now the sensations that went with it brought it all shockingly home to him. A warm feeling pooled underneath his shoulder as he lay on the cold floor, and he knew it was blood.

Ianto didn't even hear the gun clatter to the concrete floor as it slipped from his grip. He was stunned and rooted to the spot, feeling as if time itself had come to a standstill. Jack lying on the ground, felled by his own hand. Sense returned a moment later but it could have been hours in Ianto's mind and he staggered running across the room and fell to his knees by Jack's side.

'Shit! Oh God. Jack! Jack!'

Jack was trying to say something, but it came out as a harsh garbled sound, blood leaking from the edge of his lips as the bullet had torn through his lung on its journey. He was attempting to say "It's okay" but the sound that came out was nothing like it. It didn't matter, because seconds later he lost the fight and his eyes fell shut as his heart stopped beating.

Ianto knelt there, breathing hard. Oh God, what had he done? He'd shot Jack. He'd killed him. He hadn't meant to, but Jack had moved so suddenly. Jack was dead and it was his fault. His head spun wildly. What was he going to do? How was he going to explain what had happened? Would the team think he'd killed him on purpose? He still didn't think they trusted him, being from Torchwood One, and perhaps they had every right not to. Should he run? Would they come and track him down? And what about Lisa? He couldn't just leave her here. Oh God.

His thoughts all faded as he cast a look down at Jack's pale face. The nauseating horror caused him to stagger back a few feet before the tears sprung to his eyes and he hugged himself tightly, wracked with powerful sobs.

He had no idea how long he sat there in the semi darkness, sobbing into the arms that wrapped tightly around his legs, rocking slightly. He didn't hear the inhalation from Jack as he revived, nor notice him slowly sitting up. It was the coughing sounds as he spat out the blood that still filled his mouth from before he'd died that alerted him. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Had he gone mad?

Jack made to approach him slowly, reaching out a hand placatingly.

'Ianto. It's okay. I'm okay.'

Ianto scrambled back a few feet, the terrified expression on his face at what he was seeing enough to repulse him. Jack had been dead, he was sure of it. It wasn't until Jack had slowly crawled all the way over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder that he could believe he wasn't imagining things.

'Jack?'

'It's okay,' he repeated, pulling the scared man into his arms and hugging him close. It was the closest they'd been since the first night they'd lain on top of one another in the warehouse. He could feel the slight trembling of Ianto's body against his own. He needed the hug almost as much as Ianto did.

After a few minutes, he managed to coax Ianto up to his feet and back up to the main hub, assuring him that he could and would explain everything. Ianto just let himself be lead upstairs, not sure that he could make it under his own steam without the reassuring arm that wrapped around his middle, guiding his unresponsive brain. He sat him down in the chair that sat opposite his desk, and retrieved a blanket to wrap around him, his skin clammy. Shock, Jack thought, and rightly so, all things considered. This wasn't how he'd planned their evening.

'Stay here,' he instructed, as he left to change his shirt, not wanting to sit there covered in blood given what he would have to do. He returned ten minutes later, freshly clothed, with two steaming hot mugs and laid them on the desk, Ianto still huddled in the blanket, pulling it tight around him as if it was protecting him from something, or someone perhaps.

'Drink,' came the next instruction.

Ianto must have calmed somewhat because Jack received a response he didn't expect. 'Thank you sir, but I've tried your coffee before and it's really not very good.'

'It's hot chocolate,' Jack confirmed. 'Even I can't mess that up. And you could use something hot and sugary. It'll do you a world of good.' He sipped his own as if to affirm the statement. Ianto obediently followed suit.

After a few minutes of mutual drinking, Jack put his mug down and leaned across the desk, hands clasped.

'Ianto, do you understand what you saw tonight?'

'You died. Then you came back.'

Jack was always surprised at how Ianto could boil something down to the simplest of facts. The place is a mess. The archives are in complete disarray. Your paperwork is overdue. The coffee is awful. It was almost unnerving. He was glad to have taken the young man on board.

'Yes,' he confirmed. He didn't expect Ianto to say any more on the subject.

'I've seen reports in the archives, photos even. You in the nineteenth century, again in the twenties, nineteen fifty three, seventy eight. Always the same. I thought perhaps you just couldn’t age. Not being able to die makes more sense, given all the danger.'

'Maybe I'm just really good at what I do,' Jack joked. It felt nice to be able to publicly make light of his condition with someone else. It was just a shame that it wouldn't last.

'How?'

'Something happened to me a long time ago. You worked for Torchwood One, so I'm guessing you've heard of The Doctor?' He received a slight nod. 'I was with him when something happened. I don't know what. One second I was dead, killed by daleks on a satellite hovering above Earth, and then I was alive again, and the daleks had disappeared. Ever since then, I just can't die. No matter how many times it happens, I always come back.' It didn't seem worth mentioning that he was from three thousand year's in the future, had time traveled, and was technically considered alien.

'That must be awful.'

Once again Jack was surprised. Everyone else who'd ever found out, had thought his immortality a blessing. A few had come to realise what a curse it truly was, but none had come and said it outright.

'It's not easy,' he confessed. 'The only compensation I suppose is that it makes it a bit easier to do this job.'

'Because you take risks that you wouldn't if you were mortal?'

'Yeah.'

'That doesn't seem like very good compensation.'

'I suppose not. Dying over and over again doesn't really qualify as a perk of the job.'

'Is there no way to fix it?'

'The Doctor might know, but I have to wait until a version of him coincides with my timeline. I'm still waiting.'

'How long?'

How long indeed? The century had turned twice now. 'Could be tomorrow. Could be eighty years from now. Until then, I'm stuck here.'

Ianto sat there in silence for a few minutes, digesting this new information and assimilating it with what he'd already uncovered in his duties rearranging their archives.

'Do the others know?'

'No.'

Jack watched the expression playing over Ianto's face. He was looking for something specific in that countenance. It was as if he could sense the wheels turning in his mind.

'I shot you.'

'It was an accident.'

Ianto fixed him with his deep blue gaze. 'It doesn't matter if it was an accident. It still happened.'

'And if you hadn't shot me, I'd have been killed by that weevil.'

'In theory,' Ianto countered.

'Trust me, given the option, I'd rather take a bullet. Being mauled to death by a weevil is not pleasant. It was an important lesson for you. No matter what we do, and how careful we are, things don't always go the way we plan, and you're just going to have to learn to accept that. This is a dangerous job, I'm not going to lie. You've seen what happens when it all goes to shit. And if you still want to walk away from all of this now, I won't hold it against you.'

Ianto shook his head. 'I can't.'

Jack didn't understand Ianto's response. It seemed too much to hope that his inability to leave was tethered to Jack. Ianto began to look tired, hugging the blanket close around his body. Jack dismissed the comment without further consideration.

'It's been a long day,' Jack declared. 'Why don't you go park yourself on the sofa while I take these mugs out to the kitchen, then I can drop you off home.'

Ianto readily complied, too tired and emotionally spent to argue. By the time Jack had come to collect him a few minutes later, he was already asleep, his head drooping onto his shoulder where he was sat. Jack eased him down along the length of the sofa and tucked the blanket around him, leaving him there. The retcon had been slow acting, and he almost felt saddened that Ianto wouldn't remember that he was immortal in the morning. He already knew too much as it was from the records in the archives. Jack would miss having someone to talk to about it, but protecting his team from the truth was more important. They were safer not knowing.


End file.
